The Unbearable Lightness of Dragons Page 6

  “Honest to Pete, I can’t take you anywhere. Stop being such a rude demon.” Aisling smiled at us both. “So, we’re agreed?”

  “Agreed,” I said, nodding.

  “Me, too,” May said.

  “Excellent. Mmm, this roast pork is really outstanding. Would anyone like a bite?”

  Jim lifted up its head hopefully. “Yeah, I—”

  “Anyone human want a bite?” she corrected with a meaningful look at it.

  May pursed her lips.

  “Oh, sorry. I forgot you’re not . . . never mind. Ysolde, would you . . . no, you’re not, either. Er . . . moving on. I believe that’s taken care of all the business at hand, so if there are no other issues to deal with, I move we call this meeting officially over.”

  I smiled and lifted my wine. “To the successful completion of whatever it is the First Dragon wants of me.”

  “To no curse on the silver dragons,” May said, lifting her glass.

  “To peace amongst the dragons,” Aisling said, clinking our glasses with hers.

  “To sexy little Corgis with the fuzziest butts imaginable,” Jim added, slurping loudly out of its water bowl.

  Chapter Four

  “You are being ridiculously obstinate.”

  “And you are being unrealistic.” Baltic jammed a few articles of clothing into a small bag. “I am the wyvern, Ysolde. You are the mate. I have yielded to you on more occasions than I like, but about this I will not.”

  It came as no surprise that he outright refused to lift the silver dragon curse. What did take me aback was his flat refusal to even consider the idea of meeting with the other wyverns.

  “If you don’t agree to meet with the weyr, then the whole thing is off.” I couldn’t help the note of pleading in my voice as I followed him when he went from the closet to the bed with a few more items of clothing. “Thala will remain a prisoner, and we’ll remain at war.”

  “The war doesn’t matter to me, and Pavel and I will effect Thala’s release when we return.”

  “At the cost of how many dragons?” I asked, slapping my hands on my legs as he zipped up the bag. “You said yourself that there was far more protection around her than you imagined. You can’t just waltz in and get her—you would have to fight, just the two of you against Drake’s huge army of men intent on keeping her prisoner. And much as you annoy me at times, I don’t want you killed!”

  “I will not be the one to die,” he said with brash arrogance.

  “By the rood, man! I don’t want anyone to die!”

  He dropped the bag onto a chair next to the bedroom door. “I have decided, mate.”

  Tears of frustration sprang to my eyes. My throat worked for a moment as I watched him gather up his keys, wallet, and cell phone. “Please,” was all I could get out, but the word was imbued with emotion.

  He turned slowly toward me, his face dark. “You ask too much, Ysolde.”

  “I know. But I have to. Don’t you see? I want you safe, but I also want to have a future. You keep saying I’m a dragon, but you’re denying me the chance to have roots. I want to explore my dragon self, but I can’t so long as we’re outside of the weyr.”

  “The two things are not mutually exclusive,” he said, taking my hands in his and gently pulling me against him.

  “They are for me. We did a war once, Baltic, and it ended in unthinkable misery. I will not go through that again.”

  His eyes closed for a moment, his face twisted with the same pain I felt so deep inside me.

  “Please,” I whispered against his mouth, allowing myself to melt against him. “Talk to the weyr again. With Thala and Fiat cooperating, we can get all of the issues straightened out, and then we can be happy.”

  “I have you. I am happy.”

  I melted a little more, reveling in the taste and scent and feel of him, my hands drawing intricate patterns on his back. “Meet with the wyverns, give serious thought about lifting the silver dragon’s curse, and I swear that Aisling, May, and I will have Thala free by the time you return from Dauva.”

  He was still and silent for so long that I was about to give in to despair, but at last he swore under his breath, and kissed me swiftly. “I will do this one last thing for you, mate, but this is it! There will be no more boons! It is the absolute last one—do you understand?”

  “I understand,” I said, smiling up at him.

  His gaze slid toward the bed, but before I could do so much as kiss him, he sighed and gently put me away from him. “I will miss my flight if I allow you to thank me properly. I do not like this plan you have to free Thala, but I am aware that it is not you the wyverns want dead, so you may proceed with it despite my misgivings. You will not put yourself in any danger, however.”

  “So bossy,” I said, giving in to my desire and kissing him. “Fire. Please.”

  He bathed me in his dragon fire as he took charge of the kiss, allowing me to feel both his passion and his love.

  “Farewell, my heart,” I said as he picked up his bag. “Come back to me safe.”

  He paused for a minute at the door, a curious look on his face. “You said the exact same thing to me three hundred years ago.”

  “But then you were going out to battle Constantine. You won’t be doing that this time,” I said, smiling a little at the bittersweet memory.

  “Perhaps. Perhaps not,” was all he said before leaving.

  I stared at the door for a few minutes wondering what the hell that meant, but chalked it up to Baltic’s indulging in a little mystery. He liked to do that, claiming it was his way to bring back all the many missing gaps in my memory. To be honest, I thought it was more his way of teasing me, but since I enjoyed puzzling out a good mystery, I didn’t quibble.

  Two hours later I watched the sun begin its descent into the gentle hills to the west before considering the chair that sat before me. I stood in a back corner of the velvety green lawn, well away from the house and anything that might accidentally get in the path of my sometimes wonky magic.

  The frog that sat on the chair in a glass jar looked back at me with shiny black eyes.

  “Just in case something goes wrong and I turn you into a banana, I want to apologize now. I don’t think it will, but I feel obligated to warn you that with the interdict on me, my magic doesn’t quite do what I intend it to do. Also, in case the banishing does work, please note that I have fixed in mind a location two miles from here next to a stream, so you should be able to find a new home there. I hope you won’t mind relocating. Are you ready? Good. So am I.” I closed my eyes for a moment to gather my thoughts, and remember exactly what I had said two months ago when I inadvertently summoned the First Dragon by means of a banishing spell.

  “Taken with sorrow, all I cast from me,” I said, taking strength from Baltic’s dragon fire, which still mingled with my own deep inside me. “Devoured with rage, banished so you will be.”

  I opened my eyes, but nothing happened. The air didn’t shimmer; no dragon formed out of nothing; the frog wasn’t even gone. He belched at me and ran his tongue over his left eyeball, clearly not the least bit impressed.

  “Maybe I didn’t concentrate hard enough. Let’s try it again.” I took another deep breath, focused my attention on thoughts of the First Dragon, and repeated the spell.

  All was silent around me except for the chatter of birds in the distance and the subdued hum of a couple of bumblebees as they flitted amongst three scraggly wild rosebushes.

  “Right,” I told the frog. “I see what the problem is. The first time I did this, I wasn’t trying to summon the First Dragon—I was trying to banish everyone else. So I’ll focus on that instead. You ready for a little journey? Here we go.”

  I recited the spell a third time. The frog fell asleep.

  “Stars and stripes forever,” I snapped, storming around the chair. I tried it four more times, but I didn’t banish so much as a blade of grass. “And I didn’t even get a banana.” The now-freed frog made an unsympatheti
c noise as it hopped away into the garden.

  I was about to return to the house when a sort of fog swept over me . . . a cold, biting, familiar sort of fog.

  “I will let you live only because you are my godson and namesake.” The man’s voice, deep and rich with sorrow, pierced the blinding whiteness.

  I shivered and wrapped my arms around myself as I tried to peer through the wind and snow that were storming around me.

  “I ought to kill you where you stand,” another man’s voice answered, and like the first, it was familiar. I moved toward them until two figures were visible in the nearly blinding storm. “You drove Baltic to this, drove him mad, and now he is dead. I may have killed him, but the blood is on your hands, Constantine Norka.”

  “Flee while you can, Kostya,” Constantine answered, his shoulders slumped in weariness. “Go far away and hide until the remaining black dragons are no longer sought.”

  “I am not afraid of you! I am not afraid of battle!”

  “It would not be a battle; it would be a slaughter. Flee, I tell you. You are Toldi’s son, and I can do no less, but do not try me further. Go now, before we bring down the castle.”

  “You don’t have to destroy Dauva,” Kostya said, his face dark with anger. “For god’s sake, I know you hate us, but there are innocent women and children who have sought protection inside its walls!”

  Constantine shook his head, the flakes of white snow standing stark against the rich honey blond of his hair. “Ysolde sent them away. She herself told me that there was no reason to attack, since only Baltic and she remained with a handful of men.”

  “Where is she? You will return her to me. I am wyvern now, and I will protect her.”

  Constantine lifted his head, his expression stark. “She is dead.”

  Kostya stared at him in disbelief. “How?” he finally choked out.

  “You can see for yourself,” Constantine said, turning slowly and moving deeper into the storm. “I have not touched her body.”

  Kostya staggered after him, both men disappearing into the whiteness that seemed to cut right through me, stripping away my breath and leaving me reeling.

  It took me a while to recover from that vision, but it did tell me one thing. “This has to be about Constantine. But what am I supposed to do about a dead man?” I asked a little while later.

  “That is the question, isn’t it?” May said, the cell phone connection cutting in and out a bit as we passed through a short tunnel. “Tell me again what you did to summon the First Dragon.”

  I slouched into my seat on the train that was at that moment whisking me to London and an appointment with my former employer, who just happened to be the powerful head of the Otherworld, ruling a good percentage of the immortal world. Quickly I went over what had happened—or rather, not happened—ending with, “Do you think that time at the sárkány was just a fluke? Have I really lost all my mage powers? What am I going to do if I can’t summon the First Dragon?”

  “I don’t think it was a fluke, and I don’t think you’ve lost your powers. There’s one thing missing from your attempt today.”

  “Oh? What’s that?”

  “Dragons,” she said succinctly. “I’m willing to bet that you pulled on Baltic’s fire to help you summon, and it seems very likely to me that the collective presence of all those dragons helped the summoning along.”

  “Great.” I leaned my head against the window. “Now I have to wait until the next sárkány to summon the First Dragon.”

  “Not necessarily. We’ll try it again tomorrow, when Aisling and I arrive for our assault on Burleigh House.”

  “But you two are only mates,” I pointed out.

  “Yes, but I have a connection to the First Dragon. Perhaps that will be enough to let your summoning work.”

  “Possibly.” I sighed and gathered up my things as the train pulled into the station. “Time for me to go beard the magey lion in his den. Wish me luck.”

  “You don’t think that maybe you should hold off petitioning Dr. Kostich until after you try summoning the First Dragon again? Perhaps it’s the interdict that is helping the summoning.”

  “It could be, but I don’t really have a choice—I promised Baltic we’d have Thala out by the time he returned from Dauva, and that means my magic has to be in working order. I don’t think Drake’s guards are going to be too awed if I threaten them with bananas.”

  May laughed. “No, I suppose not. Good luck, then. I’d have you pass along my good wishes to him, but frankly, I’d rather see Dr. Kostich in Abaddon.”

  It didn’t take long to get from the train station to the hotel that Dr. Kostich favored when he stayed in London. I consulted the reception desk, gave them the false name I had used to book the appointment with the archimage, and was duly informed to proceed to the third floor suite where Dr. Kostich was waiting for me.

  “Good evening,” I told the unfamiliar young man who opened the door.

  “Evening. You must be Uma Thurman.” He stood looking at me for a second while I damned my inability to think of a good pseudonym. At last he stepped back and waved a gracious hand. “Please come this way.”

  I was escorted to a living room I knew well from my previous time in Dr. Kostich’s employment.

  “Your appointment is here, master. A Miss Uma Thurman.”

  Dr. Kostich was looking out the window, his profile to me. He frowned for a moment, then looked toward the door, saying, “The actress? What does she—you!”

  “Hello, Dr. Kostich. I hope you don’t mind me using a fake name, but I knew you would never see me if I used my own. You don’t mind if I sit down, do you?”

  “Of course he doesn’t mind,” a woman’s voice said from the doorway that led to one of the bedrooms. I spun around, surprised, a smile forming when I saw the woman walking toward me with outstretched hands.

  “Violet!”

  “Tully, how lovely to see you again.” She took my hands and kissed me on either cheek, her faint French accent just as elegant as she was. Petite and dark-haired, she had a graceful air that I always coveted, since she never allowed herself to be ruffled by any circumstance life threw at her. It might have had something to do with the fact that she was over a hundred years old, but I suspected her placid personality was the underlying force. “It’s been . . . what, five or six years? Father, you didn’t tell me that Tully was visiting you. Sit down, my dear, and tell me how you are. Is that delightful boy of yours here? And what’s this about you really being a dragon? Father refuses to talk about it, so it must be something quite shocking.”

  “She is not sitting down. She is not staying. Tully Sullivan, you are shameless and without any sense of moral rectitude, using my open-door policy in this manner,” Dr. Kostich said, storming over to us. “Adam, remove this person from my presence.”

  The young man at the door hesitated, looking at me warily.

  “Oh, Father, no. It’s been forever since I’ve seen Tully, and she’s just the person we need with our problem,” Violet begged. “Let her stay, please. We have lots of news to catch up on.”

  Dr. Kostich’s frown deepened, and I could see he really did want to boot me out, but Violet had always been the favorite of all his children, and it was well-known amongst the mage apprentices that she could wheedle just about anything out of him. “She is not welcome here.”

  “Of course she is. Sit, Tully. Oh, I suppose I should call you Ysolde now, since Father tells me that’s your true name. And such a pretty name it is. What brings you to see us?”

  “Er . . .” I slid a glance at Dr. Kostich. He stood glaring at me, but finally, with a disgusted noise, dismissed the young man at the door with a gesture and sat down in a chair opposite us. “Well . . . it’s kind of a long story.”

  “The best kind. I can’t wait to—What’s this?” Violet leaned forward, squinting slightly at my chest. She gaped openmouthed at it for a moment, then turned an outraged look upon her father. “An interdict, Father?”r />
  He looked down his long, narrow nose at her. “Yes, an interdict. She betrayed my trust, allowed her behemoth of a wyvern to try to kill me, and threw conjured bananas at me. Any one of those acts would be sufficient grounds for an interdict—with all three, she’s lucky I didn’t have her banished to the Akasha.”

  “For the love of the saints . . .” Violet shook her head. “Tully wouldn’t betray you. She was the best of all your apprentices.”

  “You’re just saying that because the pair of you used to get up to all sorts of mischief when I wasn’t looking.”

  Violet grinned, her face coming alive with delight. “Do you remember that time in Prague, Tully, thirty or so years ago, at the GOTDAM conference when Father’s other apprentice—what was her name? I’ve completely forgotten it, but she was the most annoying person. Quite the backstabber, too, which is why, when she was flaunting in front of us the fact that she was dating the head of the Oracles Union, we set it up so she thought he was betraying her with a Guardian, and she kicked him out of her room while he was naked, and he went to Father to demand justice, and of course, right at that moment a group of Diviners came down the hall, and they thought Father was having a wild orgy—”

  “That is quite enough,” Dr. Kostich interrupted with a stern glance at his daughter.

  “I’m afraid I don’t remember that,” I told Violet sadly. “My husband—the man I thought was my husband—wiped my memory. But it sounds like we had fun.”

  “Oh, we did. You weren’t a real apprentice yet, still just a student, but we had some lovely times together.”

  Dr. Kostich snorted and made a gainful attempt to take charge of the conversation. “Why are you here, Tully Sullivan?”

  I flinched at the zing of pain that shot through me when he spoke my full name. Although my history with Dr. Kostich was somewhat unusual, he was the most powerful mage in existence, a fact he didn’t let anyone, least of all me, forget.

  “I’ve come to ask you to lift the interdict,” I said quietly, knowing he hated histrionics.